OneShot Collection
by TurquaTortle
Summary: Collection of one shots from various movies, more details inside!
1. Info and a handful of ideas

**IM DOING A ONESHOT COLLECTION BECAUSE IM TOO LAZY TO PUBLISH DO MANY ONESHOTS AND I HAVE A LOT OF IDEAS SO BUCKLE UP**

 **all enthusiasm aside, I'll most likely do it in alphabetical order because I'm trying to be organized (if you've seen all the stuff under my bed you'd think I was planning on being trapped in my room for days) so here are a few ideas I already have. If you have any pair or idea for a fic you can leave it in the little comment box below! :)**

 **Adumbrate:**

Adumbrate: to explain faintly or opaquely outline; describe.

In other words; a word in which could be used to describe the way that Annelise talks whenever Julian subtly bring up the topic of _them_ and what could be, if she was willing to give him more of a hint as to whether a tutor and a princess is what they would always be, if not best friends in love.

 **Competition ((may become a three-shot or even a full story aha woops)):**

"You don't have to come first, second is okay-" Louis wonders where the sudden assurance is coming from. "-Cause you ain't never beating me." But when he sees the sarcastically widened eyes and taunting smile he regrets the thought. He flinches, actually. Even after dubbing the four as Musketeers, she refuses to _not be bitter._ And for the past two weeks, she's been treating _everything_ he does while she's in the same room as a competition.

He thinks he's going to lose his mind from the guilt.

 **Clouds:**

 _"Some day, you're gonna see the things that I see, you're gonna want the air that I breathe, **you're gonna wish you never left me.** "_

Alternate ending/ sequel to Fairytale.

 **Dangerous:**

"Dangerous," He repeats, rosy lips curling upwards playfully. He folds his hands behind his back, arching an eyebrow as if challenging the person before him. "How can something be dangerous …when you're already dead?"

 **Gift:**

 _"My gift is my song, and this one is for you."_

In which an exceedingly obstinate Renèe Dumas attempts to avoid inevitable admiration for one of the new boys in town, claiming that it would distract her from her jobs, despite Bree's friendly attempts at talking to her. It goes on for a month and the girls find it nauseating, confronting her about how she couldn't _avoid_ feelings. Huffing, she grabs her violin and bow, stomping past the castle gates and tries cooling off her steam at her happy place; only for Bree Williams to have taken her seat at the fountain, adjusting the pitch of his guitar. She would've been mad, but when she heard the smooth flowing melody, the musician in her swooned.

 **Just can't let her go:**

 _She's so mean but I kinda love it, and I just can't let **her** go._

It wasn't needed. Really. All he planned to do was be corteous and return the young lady to civilization. She was polite, at first. And then one day he invited her for breakfast, and she had tea and pastries spilled on her. Later, he searches for her to apologize and he's met with a conflicted, sassy, and bitter side of the Island.

He has no idea what possessed him to ask her for her attendance at his _engagement_ ball. He just offers one dance, and he finds himself asking, or pleading for her to stay, because she was so mean, he kind of loved it. And he couldn't let her go.

 **Lightning:**

 _Lightning strikes twice. And burns like ice. I wish I didn't love you._

Erika wishes it was as easy and simple as Julian had said. It was her fourth day posing as a Princess and with only three days until Annelise was supposed to marry King Dominic- his name made her heart lurch. Panicking in her friends suite as she posed as her, with a thunderstorm outside, she's biting her nails in worry and her stomach is flipping like an egg in a skillet for two reasons.

One, in worry for Annelise. Lightning strikes once.

And two, she hears two claps of thunder cheering her brain for the realization that she had in fact fallen for Dominic. She wishes she didn't love him, for so many reasons.

 **What's in a name?:**

Preparing for a secret mission wasn't a play, it was serious. They had to sneak their way past guards, be on _their guard_ while not looking too suspicious while also not losing their heads in the party frenzy.

But they forgot once detail, they recall while being twirled around like the princesses they were not as their charming dance partners had asked their names.

And while some of them replied with some made up excuse hastily, a redhead smiles and leans forward as her dance partner brings her closer for a twirl and with a mischievous smile, she asks. "What's in a name?"


	2. Happily Never After (L&C drabble)

**sad modern drabble for WeatherBug02 since I spent half an hour crying while rereading Banished and After All These Years. I'd say something but small kids probably read this so I'll refrain.**

* * *

 **L O V E**

 **:;:;:;:**

 **Is but a common word,**

 **Yet yearned so dearly.**

 **And hurts far more than where imagination takes you**

 **when denied**

 **:;:;:;:**

I don't think that anyone could describe the pain of watching someone you've been infatuated with for _years,_ end up with someone else.

People claim that physical pain can only be felt if you're bruised or have cuts or injuries, but I doubt it. Not as a philosopher, but as a human that yearns the feeling of being loved.

Not just romantically, I sound stupid but overall selfish, but I'm not denying it, I want the love of a parent, an aunt or uncle, a family's love. It's selfish to say, but wouldn't you want the one thing that you've been denied all your life?

What do you do when you're a child, and scared. Scared of booming thunder, clashing lightning, the shadows lurking in the dark? You'd want parent with you. What do you do when you don't have that? Either

a) Hide under the covers, as they are a magical force field where nothing can get you.

b) Softly cry until you're

1- Out of tears

2- So drained that you fall asleep.

 _If there's anything I learned as a rich person, no amount of money, no seven feet tall stacks of pizza could ever fill that void._

And you know the ironic part about it? When you feel like nothing could possibly be more painful, but fate deems it otherwise. A friend of mine, that I've been infatuated with since the year I've known her, is more than likely getting married within the year I'm losing her. Call me insane, tell me that I'm deluded, but I know that my hopes are already far too high when I say that I thought she might've liked me back, a handful of years ago.

And I'd like to thank Franco Blanc, _Yes, his last name literally means white in French,_ for putting me out of my ridiculous middle school fantasy. What did my friend do? He walked up to her, said the worst pickup line I've heard, _If you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple. But, a cutecumber would work too._ And asked her on a date. Laughing, which was the sound of a goat and a horse snorting, she agreed, mainly because of how terrible the pickup line was.

Now, multiple years later, white frank had asked me, a single man, unmarried, which was the best way to propose. I told him to google it, and google it he did. He popped out of a coffin, saying the words,

" _Every second I spend without you, my heart increases in number of deadly illnesses. Every hour without you, I slowly start to die. A day spent without you, is like death, but a far worse punishment. As if I'm trapped in a small, dark solitude, with the sun, the light of my life, away from me."_ As he leaned down on one knee, with her in awe and confusion, glazed eyes and all, the first thing she did was punch him in the arm, a tear slipping down her face, as she called him a crude name that would make a sailor blush, but just resorted to sniffing and wiping away her face on the black dress, muttering about how she hated the faux death news.

Franco, still kneeling, reached into the pocket of his 'memorial suit' and pulled out a puffed up thick handkerchief, and handed it to her, who wiped it with the bulky thing, still muttering. " _There's something in there that I'd like you to see, you don't have to accept it,"_ He had said as she slowly unraveled the rather large material, revealing a slim, rose gold box no bigger than an inch. She opened it, and was only partially surprised to find a silver ring inside, with a topaz in it, cut into the shape of the sun.

A tiny inscription on the inside caught her attention. _For the light and warmth in my life._ "I just want you to know _how much you mean to me._ " He had finished, gleaming. He had taken her hands into his, revealing crescent like cuffs.

" _Mà chère,"_ He stared, lovingly. _"I am but a moon, lost without the sun, I revolve around it for it is truly the center of my attention, there can never be darkness, without any light. You're my happiness, even in the darkest times, you're the light that brings me hope and shines on to lead me far. And I wouldn't have any complains if it stays like that forever. Will you marry me?"_ He finished his romantic speech, as people awed and all I could manage was a small smile, which was forced.

And after a moment of silence, instead of a blatant _yes,_ she sank into his arms, and agreed to slip the ring on.

And now, months later, I'm waiting at the altar. She's but a vision of white silk and roses, face hidden by the veil. She walks up the steps, says the vows, the priest smiles, and everyone cheers. The groom sweeper her up into a passionate kiss as the adults cover their children's eyes and try to muffle their giggles.

And they life happily ever after.

yet, I don't.


	3. How To Save A Life (L&C drabble)

**guess who watched Hamilton? _me, that's who!_ guess who also listened to The Fray because she got reminded of how Philip and Ham died in the same way and cried? *does a split and throws hands in the air while crying* _ME THATS WHO!_ guess who wondered how it would feel to make your son die and wrote this because let's be honest he's a ray of sunshine also why is is a/n so long when the oneshot is short as heck? who knows anyhooo, carry on reading and drop in a comment to lemme know what you think *vigorously points to the comment box***

* * *

 **HOW TO SAVE A LIFE**

 _"And I would have stayed up with you all night_

 _had I known; how to save a life."_

Her hands remain folded on her lap and she stares ahead blankly, eyes meeting the expensive wooden casket placed in front of the array of chairs placed ahead. People are gathered around, but she knows that their farewells are less than genuine, it left a sour taste in her mouth. Most of the people there only knew him by his title which expresses- express _ed_ Royalty and she was sure that less than twelve of the people there actually cared for his passing, and felt remorseful not for his finance, but rather him as a human and not a tool to wealth.

She stares at the casket as if she wants it to move, as if she wants the person inside the box to move. But he's not going to; death wasn't fond of letting mortals move about the earth with health in their bodies and flushes of colour on their cheeks in merriment, but rather they adored bloodless bodies and sickly faces left to haunt the dreams of those who suffered the loss of the grim reaper visiting their loved ones. And if there was one thing she hated more than death at that moment, it was failure- whether it be on her behalf of on behalf of Helène as well as the other three.

.The old lady had trained them until they were sure their backs were broken, she had taught them that fighting for the right thing was a nobility itself and should anything happen; protect the last remaining heir. She chuckled wryly though she was sure her eyes were burning, the old lady was _such a damv hypocrite._

Just an hour before the ball, they stood proudly; weapons concealed in their gowns and their heads held high, sight focused on their mission and hearts alight with hope, she walked into their room with a grim expression and held them back. Granted, they did try to fight, they did try to sneak out, she barked, _"Why can't you four listen to the simplest of instructions for once? There are far too many of those men and you four will be sliced like shish kabob before you even make it to the prince so don't you dare leave this apartment, Renèe Dumas, Aramina Lecour, Viveca Romere and Corinne D'Artagnan- this is an **order"** She said, voice booming and loud, fury in her eyes before she narrowed them intimidatingly, and her next words caught them all off of their guard. "Failure to comply will have you four jobless and on the streets in three minutes." She coldly stated before walking off._

They had no choice but to comply.

She grits her teeth as the feels her eyes burning again, hoping that her pride would hold back frustrated tears and she takes a sharp breath. Treville asks her if she would spare a few words as a repayment for warning him and his foolish fools of men about the attack. She would've needed a filter for the profanity she would've used at him at that moment until she saw his shining grey eyes, grieving, and she realizes that he was more than a boy to look after to the old man.

The grief reminded her of Helène, and how she had taught them everything they needed to know for that night- _Correction, almost everything._ Amidst all the fencing and shooting and whatnot, she failed to teach them what it really was,

To save a life.

Blood of a commoner spilled would be nothing.

But the blood of a royal spilled would be _everything. Everything terrible._

Looking down at the open casket, she doesn't breathe, and she doesn't know how she didn't pass out, but she decides that it _wouldn't_ mean everything, it _did_ mean everything.


	4. Lightning (E&D short shot)

**Aye here's Erika's one shot since Princess and The Pauper was suuuuch an underrated movie**

 **OH and if you looove the song "A girl like you/me", there's this really good animatic on YouTube, you should really check it out!**

 **anyway, since this is a random oneshot collection, you can add requests in the comments soO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT**

* * *

 **LIGHTNING**

 _"Lightning strikes twice,_

 _and it burns like ice_

 _i wish I didn't love you, but I do."_

Her heart thudded continuously, increasing in speed with every passing moment and it's like she has to remind herself to do something every human shouldn't even have to put effort into doing; breathing. Slow intakes of fresh, crisp air filled her lungs almost refreshingly, but she was anything but refreshed.

Erika was pacing about like someone who's wife just went into labor. Continuous pacing in the same spot and she was sure that by the time she was finished there would be a hole where her feet padded at for hours. But she couldn't help the clammy hands, the dry throat and aching head, not to mention her erratically beating heart.

It couldn't be happening.

It shouldn't be happening.

But it _was._

If Julian did not arrive sooner with Annelise, she would be a doomed woman, in both ways. She would go to prison, and Dominic would be- her heart gave an unwilling lurch at his name. But she would still be in prison for committing a crime that was needed to do good; she was posing as the Princess while her tutor has begun his search for her while at the same time trying to prove Preminger of treason and she couldn't have thought herself more stupid even if she tried. After all, what kind of nut job would even think that such an action could be considered a walk in the park?

Her stupid mind, clearly. She wasn't even suffering the consequences yet and she was already feeling faintish. She didn't eat that night, she could feel the bile acidically bubbling up in her stomach in the most uncomfortable ways, and she was sweating, she had already sweat through two gowns, and it was barely spring. The worst part was, she was drenched in cold sweat and she was shivering and lightheaded, and her face was also sickly pale.

Erika wondered why she even agreed to go through with the plan.

"It's okay," She breathed, placing her hands up trying to calm herself as she swallowed the lump forming in her throat as her head weighed down with the yet to come consequences for the horrendously wonderful- was it really wonderful? Their plan to exploit Premingers intentions while finding the missing Princess?- deeds.

Her heart didn't seem to agree, only increasing in the number of beats making it harder to breathe through the panicking state she was in.

"You're fine." She said louder, but her voice shook as she stared at the reflection of the large mirror, the candles that encased the room with light held the warmth and comfort and she just wanted, wished for it to comfort her in any way. She stared at her reflection; she was a mess, physically and mentally at that point. Whether morally fit there as well was debatable.

The only thing was, she could always conceal her eyebags with some creamy powder and paint her chapped paling lips with a rich rose shade of lipstick, and massage her tangled, stringy, knotted mess of brunette hair with some oils- not that she would be letting her natural waves down anytime soon while posing as a Princess, but it would be nice.

But the mess her mind was could not be fixed even with the highest amount of assurance, she would have to be certain that things would go okay.

Erika's throat dried and she found it harder to swallow the lump in her throat. Shaking her head slightly, massaging her temples with one hand as the other fell limply at her side, she trotted towards the desk, the baby pink robe around her trailing silently as she picked up the glass pitcher with her hand, carefully pouring an adequate amount into a small glass.

She shivered slightly as a harsh breeze blew by, channeling the rain towards her, a few droplets going through the window as their weight was carried by the winds. Wincing as the cold hit her arms, she reached over, grasping the edges of the window and shut them, slipping the lock into place with a sigh.

A stroke of lightning lit the midnight sky, and her heart dropped as her memories flashed.

Erika hated those kinds of storms.

 _She was no older than five, living in the basement of some middle class woman's house. Her mother was a chef, her father a butler, a stable boy on a good day when the tavern the woman owned was in use. She pressed her hands against the cold glass, staring at awe as the tiny clear droplets of water splashed down quickly. When her parents were late she used to pretend the drops were horses, and she would race them to see which ones hit the bottom of the dirty window first. She cheered when diamond, the biggest droplet slipped into the windowsill, then off to the street, adding to the pool of water the city was slowly flooding with. Nothing major, just a few inches of water that could soil ones shoes was all._

 _She was a little too big for the clothes she fit in when she was two, though her bones needed strength and her stomach needed food necessary for her growth, they were surely forming. She had to have the sleeves and collar ripped off for her to fit in the dress she was wearing, and the cloth was tied around her waist since the buttons refused to hold up her dress any longer. Winter was approaching, and the woman, Madeline, had been generous enough to raise the pay for her parents, so what they didn't gather for the debt they were in, they collected the spare coins to get their daughter a fitting dress of thick material to keep her warm during harsh times, as the blanket she had since she was a baby refused to keep her toes warm, landing in her almost catching frostbite, causing Madeline to refuse to let her anywhere colder than e fireplace during winter, knowing she would wander off._

 _She would always see noblemen and women pass through town occasionally in their carriages, all dolled up and beautiful. But what would always catch her attention would be the gowns that adorned their figures. She would like how the dresses puffed up in areas, and how the colour of the stitching string could alter the image of ones figure. Erika sighed dreamily, she would love to make one of those one day._

And that day came sooner than expected. She was shoved into Madame Carps dress industry at the age of six when Madeline, who was paying the rest of the debt her parents hadn't lived to pay had to leave for an emergency medical, unable to pay the rest of the money.

At age six she was forced to sweep the floors and walk, barefoot, three miles for a single egg if she wanted breakfast.

At age six she had bled so much from pricking her fingers on practice stitches one could wonder if there was an attack.

At age eight she had to sew shoes for her cold, numb feet when her old ones had more holes in it than a dead man at war.

At age nine she had to sew dresses for the middle class, and when she failed she had no dinner.

At age nine she grew a backbone, and the willpower to do what she loved _freely_ struck in.

At age ten she ignored the hardship and daydreamed about owning a small room in the city.

At age eleven she was brought into the city for the first time, she heard music.

At age twelve, she still couldn't kick off the song and tune.

At age thirteen, she wanted to sing.

At age fourteen she started sneaking out to save some money for herself, she only had a few coins to that day.

And all that would go to waste if she got arrested.

At remembrance of that she took in a sharp breath and forgot how to exhale for a few seconds. She shouldn't feel surprised, it was silly, the consequences for posing as a princess wouldn't have no punishments, it was simply ridiculous. Another thing that was ridiculous was how she was enjoying being treated like royalty, and it made her guilty. It made her feel sick.

 _Why would how even think that, Erika?_ She mentally scolded herself. _That's like saying you're **glad** the Princess is missing._

She felt dread eating her alive and she partially regretted not taking dinner that night. Heavens no, she would never wish a terrible fate for Annelise - _there you go addressing her by the name, you're getting too accustomed to being pampered, remember, you're just a street rat-_ she would do anything if it assured her friends- _don't think of yourself so highly-_ safety. And through some wicked, nonsensical happenings, doing anything actually meant doing _every possible illegal doing_ in the kingdom.

Posing as a Princess and convincing- _conning_ everyone.

Aiding in helping a tutor illegally spy on someone of higher status and doing even more illegal acts because of an _assumption_ that the man was single handedly bringing corruption into the kingdom through false news of the mines running out of gold.

Another strike of lightning illuminated the sky for a moment when she thought of the next wrong doing and she swore that her heart stopped for a moment and she couldn't have remembered the rest if she tried because of _him._

 _Dominick._

At the memory of his name, her heart lurched and a whirlwind of emotions bypassed her and she couldn't have named all of them if she tried, but she could name the last emotion she felt, guilt.

Of course she should feel guilty for conning the man who offered to help the kingdom, but the guilt for falling for him overpowered it and then she felt the very emotion _again_ because she felt less for the kingdom but rather the king of another.

Erika had fallen for him in less than a week.

Maybe it was the way he knew how to conjure melodies to any beat.

Maybe it was the way he was so practiced and relaxed with any instrument a fingertip of his touched.

Maybe it was the fact that she adored music, and his tunes made her swoon.

Maybe it was the way how anything he sang felt like a serenade to her heart while they both knew that it was arranged.

Maybe it was his taste in sound and how any melody felt soothing, a lullaby.

Maybe it was the way she was overthinking his lovely, albeit courteous smiles and gentle, caring, warm eyes.

And then she felt a fresh wave of guilt and wash over her at the realization that she might be in love. At the same time, her regrets were none. But her somber was alive; the blue flowers that arrived at her desk was simply a courteous gesture; they were betrothed, he was simply taking the opportunity to just be friends. And though she wished it wasn't so, it was only logical that their walks in the gardens was just an opportunity taken to get to know each other- might as well, they were to get married-

-If she wasn't thrown into the dungeon, or if Julian hadn't found Annelise.

At the mention of it, she remembered that her friend was lost and would surely return before the wedding. And if she were to bbe completely honest, she wanted to cry.

A part of her, the selfish side, the one that didn't want to live in poverty any longer, wanted to marry him, not just for his finances, but because there was something about the way his words persuaded the emotion of calmness and comfort into her in her silent moments of fear and dread. His warming touch when their hands would be interlocked would somehow make her relaxed, and for the longest time since a few years, she truly felt alive and...home.

And it tore her apart because in a way, it was wrong, though it felt so right.

She really wished she didn't love him.

And then she started to cry.


	5. Just Can't Let Her Go (1 out of 2 A&R)

**(( psst VoodooVanz hope you're not disappointed i tried making this as lengthy as possible but this is just 1/2)) fun fact: if you google rosella, a flower doesn't come up. A bird does. Ha. But the hibiscus plant isnt that pretty, no offense. also the hopeless romantic that is i has recently fallen in love with Renée Eslie Goldsberry's singing in hamilton I listened to satisfied (and blow us all away, i started jamming and the philip just- at first I was like smh then I cried) while writing this ha**

 **warning: mention of slavery and poverty since said subjects were more common than not during the time period. antonios rants are mainly just the things i rant about so..yeah,**

 **fun fact: i literally forgot the alphabet for a minute and thought i accidentally deleted it my heart fell to the floor im** **))**

* * *

 _She's so mean but I kinda love it, and I just can't let **her** go._

It wasn't needed. Really. All he planned to do was be corteous and return the young lady to civilization. She was polite, at first. And then one day he invited her for breakfast, and she had tea and pastries spilled on her. Later, he searches for her to apologize and he's met with a conflicted, sassy, and bitter side of the Island girl.

He has no idea what possessed him to ask her for her attendance at his _engagement_ ball. He just offers one dance, and he finds himself asking, or pleading for her to stay, because she was doing things to him, he kind of loved it. And he couldn't let her go.

* * *

 **JUST CAN'T LET HER GO (part 1)**

All of Antonio's intentions were planned perfectly- Alright maybe not perfect, since he had literally just been rescued from her after an alligator, or three, had attempted to make a chew toy of his leg and was just being courteous; returning the favor, so to speak, when he decided to bring the mysterious island girl, of whom belonged a name that they only knew of was 'Ro' something.

He had actually spent most of the journey swinging idly on his hammock, climbing about dangerous places of the ship, and wondering what could be the other part to 'Ro' s name.

The obvious one was Rose. It was simple, and elegant. Yet, for some reason Antonio found himself scowling. He wasn't quite sure why; the girl was simple, and..elegant, to some extent. But it felt as it something was missing.

Courageous. Selfless. Those were words used to describe roses, and Antonio found himself swinging, lonely, on a hammock at some time too close to midnight, staring at the midnight black sky pooling with shinning stars.

Rose did fit quite well, he decided, but it wasn't _that_ fitting by itself.

He tried thinking back on the information on roses Luciana had taught him.

White roses symbolized purity and innocence. At first, one could find it fitting; as she was rather innocent when it came to ...quite anything, really, shoes, telescopes, ships. Antonio lend a fond chuckle escape his lips as he fiddled with the telescope in his hand.

Red roses symbolized romance. He made a face at that, it wasn't like she wasn't amiable nor admirable, since she _really_ was, but he decided that the idea of fawning over romance was more in Luciana's department.

Deep red roses symbolized heartfelt regret and sorrow. That seemed a little fitting. Only a little, Antonio thought to himself. The poor girl looked absolutely heartbroken about the w ay she had tried to convey that the only remainder of who she was was a small chest with the broken label, one half of the embroidered leather torn off, only leaving _'Ro'_ behind.

He pursed his lips and furrowed his brows as a weight settled in his chest. He didn't like that look one bit, he despised it. He had grown up in luxury with both parents by his side while the island girl only had three animals and a not so much of a home to grow up in. What made it worse was she probably had a family, if they weren't deceased.

He actually slapped himself for thinking so negatively, and it stung. He shouldn't think about how, when he brings the girl back to civilization, she would have no one to go to. Something in his chest tightened. That would be rude to just shove someone into an unknown environment , after all, there would have to be a thorough survey to make sure that her family knew and were alive and well, judging from whatever they could inspect that was in that small wooden box.

Antonio hadn't actually thought about it. He stopped swinging the hammock before raising his leg onto the hammock. He shrugged, castle accodomation wouldn't be hard to arrange, but if his father weren't journeying to another country, convincing him would be difficult, surely he would have to plead. He frowned slightly, why was he overthinking such things? And why was he trying to make sure that everything went well for a woman he had barely known for five days?

He rolled his eyes, he should stop reading those books Luciana gave him.

He was simply feeling pity, that was it.

"And back to the topic at hand," He vocalized, muttering to himself as he brushed a strand of his long hair from his face, placing a hand behind his head.

What could 'Ro' possibly stand for?

Yellow roses symbolized and were an expression of exuberance. Yellow roses evoke sunny feelings of joy, warmth and welcome. They were symbols of friendship and caring. The yellow rose, like the other roses, does not carry an undertone of romance. It indicates purely platonic emotions.

Joy, and welcome. That surely described Ro, but she wasn't the embodiment of sunshine either. It was getting more frustrating by the second. He actually thought of the little game for fun, but he was definitely thinking too much into it.

Pink Roses. There were a lot of variations of the pink rose. Over all, pink roses were used to convey gentle emotions such as admiration, joy and gratitude. Antonio smiled to himself, he was getting closer by the minute. Ro practically radiated gratitude and joy when they suggested repaying her by introducing her to civilization.

Light pink rose blooms were indicative of sweetness and innocence. Deep pink rose blooms convey deep gratitude and appreciation. Pink roses also connote elegance and grace. Sweetness, check. Innocence, check. Deep gratitude, check. Appreciation, check. Elegance? Quite possibly. Sure, she was rather reckless, jumping from rope to rope on the ship in a way that drove Antonio absolutely _nuts_ because one slip and she could injure herself and he wouldn't like that. But ther was almost always a tinge of grace in her movements. He wondered where it came from.

He frowned, was he thinking too much about her? Probably not, the discovery of the island girl probably just shook him a little.

Orange roses, on the other hand...While a yellow rose could remind one of the sun, an orange rose would remind one of a fiery blaze. The fiery blooms signify passion and energy. Yet another thing that resembled Ro. Orange roses can be used to express intense pride and fervor. Alright, perhaps not _exactly._ They also conveyed a sense of fascination.

Antoniono huffed frustratedly, every little thing from every rose so far reminded him of Ro. But that was it, small details from every single one reminded him of her and maybe it was the way he was probably overthinking it but the desire to find out her name simply grew stronger.

He moved onto the next shade. A Lavender rose like its color conveyed enchantment. It also expressed "love at first sight". Fascination? Sure. Captivation? Alright. Love? Surely no. They had met five days ago, and though she interested him, it couldn't possibly quite love..yet. Darker shades of lavender roses (close to purple) conveyed a sense of regal majesty and splendor. Antonio scoffed as the first thing that came to his mind was the jacket his father adored; he was sure he never took it off. Remembering him, he felt the sense of homesickness settle in his stomach, despite how they didn't get on perfectly. Those roses are used to express fascination and adoration. True.

Blue Roses..A perfectly blue rose was still elusive like the perfectly black rose. Blue roses cannot be achieved naturally so they represent the unattainable or the mysterious. Blue roses therefore embody the desire for the unattainable. They say "I can't have you but I can't stop thinking about you".

Desire for the unattainable? Such as his desire to promise the girl that they could get her her family and promise her a financially well life? He felt his stomach twist. He couldn't make a false promise. Perhaps island life was better in a sense..

He shook his head, refusing to think oh so negatively.

Black Roses were next. Black was the color of death and farewell. A black rose, like the blue rose remained elusive. What was known as black roses were actually really dark red roses. Black roses conveyed the death of a feeling or idea. Sending black roses to someone indicates the death of the relationship.

Antonio frowned as a breeze blew by. Death. And yet he found himself thinking of the obvious; what if her family had drowned or died?

He shook his head, going back to the topic.

By mixing rose blooms of different colors purposefully, one could create a bouquet of emotions. For example, a bouquet of red and white roses would mean I love you intensely and my intentions are honorable. A random mix of roses would convey mixed feelings or send a message: _"I don't know what my feelings are yet but I sure do like you enough to send you roses"._

He decided she was a mix of all the above.

* * *

When it came to introducing Ro to his parents, he had thought of many scenarios.

None of them involved having the poor girl running-no, _sprinting_ out of the throne room in utter humiliation because of what his father had said.

Antonio sent a forlorn look towards the door before turning to his parents and trying to convey the message of _you could have been a bit nicer, not her fault she was brought upon an island_ in the most polite way possible before Ariana, his _fiancées_ mother, began speaking about the engagement ball that was to happen between him and the redhead. Despite how much the strange woman had irked him uncomfortably, he was extremely grateful for the interruption, otherwise he knew that he would have barked out a harsh remark that would leave him banned from going anywhere outside castle walls for a _long time._

She simply forced a smile on her face, a tight, constricting smile that made Antonio squirm from discomfort. "Shall we get to planning?" She asked in a clipped tone, and from the way she was boring her wide eyes onto the floor, he could tell Luciana was just as comfortable and alright with it as he, which was, _not at all._

"Of course." His father nodded approvingly, sending him a warning look of _furrowed eyebrows, narrowed eyes, and lips pressed into a firm line of don't do something stupid._

 _Ironic,_ He thought wryly, because stupid was his middle name and he was bound to do something ridiculous, something reckless- in other words, he was bound to be the opposite of what his father wished for him to be; immaculate. A plan forming in his mind, he turned his attention back to the prestigious woman with a leisurely smirk that looked almost sadistic and hooded eyes, offering a tour around the castle grounds with the most charming, silky voice he could muster.

Not knowing where his plan was headed, Ariana smiled smugly, commenting on how a queen should know her grounds as she looked at her daughter who looked extremely uncomfortable in her mothers presence, as if she could detect malicious intent in her.

Rolling his eyes after turning his head so that neither parents would see his clear annoyance with the woman, the flamboyant Prince put on a dazzling grin and lead the way.

Their first destination would have been the castle green house, but Antionio had a feeling that a certain rose was taking shelter in there, so he took them to the orchards of blooming sunflowers and peonies, where Ariana began her raging complaints, one being that she would soil the hem of her extravagant dress with the dirt, Antonio held back another eye roll when she cursed the rich soil when a smidgen got on the tips of her shoes.

He also sent a sympathetic glance towards Luciana, who looked like she would rather be trapped in a prison cell with hungry wolves from the sheer discomfort and embarrassment at her mothers actions. He didn't fancy her in any way, but they were friends, and he didn't approve when any of his companions were upset or displeased- he made a mental note to go after his rose later and briefly apologize on behalf of his father later.

Luciana sent him a grateful, relieved smile as if she knew how he was planning on ending both of their miseries in one go. Then her eyes flickered to something over his shoulder, and when a devilish smirk formed over the face of the otherwise amiable, sweet princess, he knew that she was planning something wicked, something genius, and something great.

She lead her mother to the stables, which was connected with a pig sty. Antonio made a mental note to shower his friend with praise later because within minutes, dark, disgusting chunks of mud coated what was once an intricately embroiled silk gown- or at least the hem of it, but for him it was good enough.

As it turned out, while grumbling, Ariana had tripped (The prince held back a witty remark of tripping over her large ridiculous hair or her too small of a size shoes that suffocated her feet, but held against it, not wanting to get on his fathers bad side even more than he was) and landed in the mud, coating the entire backside of her dress, and a few strands of her unlucky, unnaturally red hair as well.

Faking shock but not slight sympathy, Luciana scurried over to her mother who gripped onto her like a ladder as she stood up, and the younger devious girl had directed her to a well, advising the prince who had been muffling his pleased snickers to return to the castle and advice his parents of what had happened.

Danielle looked partially concerned, beckoning the maid who had entered with a tray of tea and pastries to scurry off and help the other queen whereas Peter looked like he was fuming, and Antonio held back the smug grin once he realized that his father was attempting to keep his anger in check after his mother had presumably lectured him on letting the young boy 'live', so to speak.

After averting his gaze so that he wouldn't smirk when his parents exchanged a look, one fuming, the other pleading, his eyes focused on the vase on the table his mother was seated at. A bright pink rose stood in the small ceramic creation filled with water and his eyes remained trained on them, and remembrance struck him like lightning; once his surely coming lecture was over, he would set foot to search for _his rose_ , God knew the young girl would be devastated and humiliated, he would have to find _some_ way of making it up to her. After all, a few hours in and she should feel welcomed by her own kind, should she not?

He chewed the side of his lip in thought before the sharp, exasperated voice of the king cut in, and the prince resisted the temptation to sigh. "Antonio." Disappointment clutched his voice in a death grip, and suddenly Antonio felt a tug in his chest, he felt blue.

Keeping his head low in shame, he responded, "Yes, your majesty?" Acidic venom laced his voice as he said the title, bitterly staring. All he wanted was to make his father proud, all his travels and adventures, he wanted to prove that he could help locate certain plants necessary for herbal remedies that could cure people. He traveled and ventured to learn more about the patterns of the ocean to aid sailors so that they could avoid shipwrecks. He traveled and lurked to help, and his father referred to it as being reckless. Recklessness came with passion, he wanted to spitefully state.

A loud sigh emitted from his father, who rubbed his temples while his mother couldn't face him, hurt and pity on her dainty features. "What ever you do, whichever reckless stunt you pull, whoever you _think_ you may be," Peter began firmly, sternly. "I am still your _father,_ to you I'm not a King, I am your paternal figure." He stated, voice hard but Antonio knew that the lecture was only because he was unsure of how to express his emotions of overprotectiveness and love.

"And I only want what is best for you." He stated, warmly, somewhat. Antonio felt surprised, but at the same time he expected it. "Luciana can provide the patience and knowledge that the wife of a Prince should have, and she's a noble." A bitter portion of the Prince knew that it was simply too good to be true, having anticipated a catch. "She is also your closest friend, and I am sure there would be no better option." It made him feel a bit better. Instead of inviting noblewomen who he had no idea the names of, his father was considerate enough to choose someone who he was close with, despite no romantic attraction between the two. The friendship was simply symbolic of siblings.

The prince remained silent, even when he was dismissed. The sun was slowly beginning to rest, the oranges and pinks casting a beautiful view with a few splatters of lavender here and there. His chest felt heavy, and he had a feeling that his rose felt the same. His feet moved on their own and in a matter of minutes, he was standing in front of the greenhouse, fist raised to knock before realizing in embarrassment that the Island girl would haven't idea what the gesture meant.

Awkwardly treading in, he kept his steps slow and careful so that he knew whether he was interrupting a moment or not, the thought being questionable when the only sound in the place being the slight rustle of the leaves when the wind blew from the open door and the clicking sounds the bottom of his shoes made with each step he took.

Antonio wondered whether the girl had scrambled off onto a ship and set sail on her own or not when silence was his only companion. He was about to sigh and leave before he caught sight of something grey.

Steps slow and careful, he made his way around the tree. The sight that awaited him was purely endearing and admirable. The girl was passed out, leaning against the side of her baby elephant, the peacock and red panda curled up near her. A soft smile made itself prominent on his features as he stared at the sight, leaning against the bark of the tree. He was going to ask her to accompany him to breakfast the following day, but he would ask later, not having the heart to awake the exhausted quad.

As he stood there for a few collective minutes, the wind grew colder and the sky turned into a pool of royal blues, azures and lavenders with the stars gleaming proudly in the sky, he remembered the girl saying something about how a certain group of them 'represented' her three companions, needless to say, he found it rather endearing how passionately she talked of two animals that had taken her in after being stranded and one baby animal that was a new addition to the group.

He left after the sun had completely disappeared past the horizon, making sure the door was shut so that no cold airs would seep into the place.

Dinner was eventful.

Luciana assumed that he was in love.

Captivated, curious, fascinated, perhaps. But he knew that love would develop over time, he had only known her for two weeks and he knew that he was a doomed man; should she stay longer, he would surely fall in love.

It took someone 0.4 seconds to fall in love upon meeting someone physically.

It took one week to be infatuated, he had reached that point.

And if she were staying for over thirty days, his infatuation would morph into the inevitable; love.

When he said nothing, spooning some soup into his mouth, the girl sent him a knowing look, one of pure bewilderment. "You didn't deny it at all." She said in awe, a smile forming over her face as she childishly cooed.

Ariana approved of the action, "Look at those lovebirds." She mused.

Antonio bore holes of irritation into the metal spoon, but Luciana didn't happen to notice. Her gaze softened. "You really do admire her, though. Don't you?" She asked, a dreamy approving look in her eyes that fueled a small, candle sized flame that urged him to pursue the girl whom he barely knew. Silly, it was.

She took his silence as a yes, which, it quite frankly was. Pondering for a moment, she placed a hand on his shoulder with a bright smile. "You should invite her for tea tomorrow morning, I'll get a dress." She suggested, not even attempting to conceal her excitement at the idea of dolling up the girl.

Thinking for a moment, he agreed.

* * *

The next morning, Antonio was all nerves and sweaty palms, hurriedly, flusterdly scurrying towards the greenhouse. He wasn't usually one to be nervous but there was something about the rose that made him jittery. Maybe it was because it was her first taste of civilization and he wanted her to cherish and savor it instead of grimacing at his father and Luciana's mothers bitterness. Either that or he was trying to shove his feelings of fascination away but he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like on an island, surviving with only three animals as a family. The survivalist in him admired that ability to no end. The expertise when it came to fending off the animals actually made his survivalist side swoon a little- no, correction, it made him swoon a _lot_ and a part of him knew he was long gone when she fended off the alligators.

From a few feet away from the greenhouse, he let out a relieved sigh he didn't know he had been holding when the girl was actually awake. He paused for a moment when he saw the way the orange tinted sunlight gleamed off of her and the way her bare feet carried her around gracefully. The latter had him confused. Harsh conditions, fighting for survival, yet as graceful as a rose petal.

He shook the thought, he was looking into every detail a little too much, but he couldn't help his fascination, she was foreign to the concept of civilization after all.

When he reached the glass exterior of the greenhouse, he raised a fist to knock before blushing, remembering that she wouldn't understand and gently opened the door, standing by the doorway before loudly clearing his throat.

Thankfully she heard it and saved him every ounce of humiliation, an emotion alongside embarrassment and the need to please that he only felt around her. If he were idiotic, he would've wondered why and brush it off as _she's new to all these things, might as well make the first experience the best experience,_ but he knew that his infatuation was getting ahold of him, and he mentally cursed the way his heart beat had stopped and sped up at the speed of light when her ocean blue eyes met with his.

Realizing that he had just been mindlessly staring, he quickly regained his composure, smiling brightly, "Good morning." He greeted, eliciting a grin that bedazzled him to the point where he actually forgot how to breathe. If he told anyone, he doubted that anyone would let him live it down. For a strange reason, he didn't find it that bothersome.

"Morning," She greeted, and he noticed something about how the single word passed her peachy lips, he wondered if her voice had always been so lovely and smooth, and it was such a pleasant sound, he wondered if she sung, he wondered how it would sound, and then he wondered how he could hear it and- had her voice been so sweet, like honey? He wished he noticed the smaller details earlier.

"W-" His tongue trips over his words and he curses how flustered he'd gotten around the girl, he was usually such a debonair, it bothered him slightly. He cleared his throat slightly. "Would you like to join us for tea?" He asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

She stared at him with what seemed like intelligent eyes for a moment, contemplating, and his hands started sweating when she looked askance for a moment.

"Tea?" She asked skeptically, the word rolling off of her tongue as if it was a foreign language, but a familiar one. Inwardly smiling at how he might have tugged at a hidden memory, he nodded, holding out a hand.

Ro stared at it for a moment as if going through her options before letting out a sigh and slipping her hand in his.

His smile brightened.

* * *

His smile fell.

The butler tripped, spilling the pastries oh so conveniently on an unsuspecting Ro and the floor. He bit down harshly on the inside of his cheek, everything was going disastrously that morning. According to Luciana, the first pair of shoes the girl tried on out of her own suggestion might have twisted her ankle when the heel broke. Luciana immediately went onto tightening it in some spare cloth quickly as they were already late when Ro refused to see a doctor and Luciana had tried getting her in the most comfortable pair of flats she owned, a suede pair in a magenta shade, but once again the girl refused, saying that she would go barefoot as if it was comfier for her while thanking her.

Then, at the pavilion, Ariana had boasted about how wonderous her daughter was with her multiple talents while subtly comparing her to Ro and both girls simply looked like they were ready for the word to swallow them whole. Everything went downhill when Ariana compared Tallullah, his mothers rescued white 'monkey' to the island girl and he was sure he saw the animal glare at her from where she was seated near his mother.

The situation seemed helpless.

Then, Ro attempted to take a sip of the tea and had burned her lip. Luciana sent her an apologetic glance before subtly showing her how to properly hold the cup, to which the girl sent an extremely grateful smile and the Prince found himself feeling fond, he adored the kindness the girl who had been deprived of so much acquired. In fact, he _loved_ it about his rose.

And then, the present events has taken place and he found himself flinching and praying that the pastries weren't fresh out of the oven.

His mother gasped, His fathers face blanched momentarily, Luciana and Tallullah's faces represented pure concern and he was honestly so thankful to have them in his life, Ariana looked purely smug, causing him to frown. But before he could put an input on how sorry he was for that to happen and could ask her if she was alright and whether she got burned or not and could overall just suddenly turn into putty or turn into a mother hen, quickly clucking about anything in worry, she ran off.

"Where are you going?" His father asked, or rather, demanded when he abruptly stood to his feet out of instinct. He opened his mouth to answer but no words came out of his mouth while his mind was screaming and rather rare happening happened then; he felt helpless. Yet, at the same time there was a sudden surge of bravery in him that wanted to roar at his father about all the things he'd put his son through and he wanted to rant so much but his being was physically held paralyzed at that moment and with a draw of a breath, he pushed his chair back and walked away attempting to keep calm while inside he was boiling with uncontrolled emotions.

"Where are you going? Get back here!" His father yelled at him and he heard a palm slap down on the tea table and the slight rattle of chinaware so he gradually picked up his pace until he was sprinting away from them, realizing that he had found common ground between them; neither of them could ever please his father without attempting to be pampered beauties that was anything but what they were. Her, a woman brought up under harsh circumstances, a survivalist. Him, born with riches at his feet but with adventure in his heart ready for the unexpected to shoot at him, a prince passionate about survival and the wilderness.

He hadn't known where he was sprinting as the ribbon securing his hair gradually loosening until there were whisps of his bark coloured strands in his face and he brushed it away and kept on running or sprinting or whatever the heck he was doing until his legs felt tired. He paused for a moment, with his hands on his knees heaving in breaths. He straightened up after a moment, only to slouch a moment and let out an aggravated noise, and kicking at loose pebbles.

He hated feeling frustrated.

He hated feeling like he didn't know what to do or where to go.

He hated feeling helpless.

And he hated feeling selfish.

Selfish for wanting for things to go perfectly when in reality, he was the equal opposite of that, he wasn't immaculate, he wasn't flawless, he wasn't perfect, he was just..him. Someone born with the privilege of sitting on a throne with riches at his feet and servants at his beck and call whenever he wished. He was grateful, who wouldn't be? There were people who were suffering and in poverty- even sold as slaves for people, of course he was grateful for it, he was grateful for every second he was alive, but the words riches and the power to rule didn't quite appeal to him as righteousness and equality did.

Of course he would ascend the throne one day, and he hoped to rule in the most beneficial ways so that no citizen should starve in the streets or work with their lives old away.

He wanted to be beneficial.

He wanted to do beneficial deeds and acts.

He wanted to sail the seas in search for remedies or learn the tidal patterns to aid in shipment so that the predictable shipwrecks could be avoided- at the word shipwreck, his heart sank. His mothers friend lost a child and a husband because of one. He didn't remember the child, nor did he remember the father, but it didn't matter to him how close they were because innocent lives were being taken every day with happenings that could be avoided and it drove him _nuts_ and it made him realize something;

He wanted to leave his mark on the world.

He didn't want to be _just_ Antonio.

He didn't want to be _just_ another man with a privilege or two or more.

He didn't want to be _just_ another human to walk the earth.

He didn't want to be _just_ another ruler of his Kingdom.

He wanted to leave such an imprint in the country, in the world, that it would take eons to forget him.

He wanted to lend a hand to any country needing it, he wanted to provide for anyone needing it, he wanted to do good for anything needing it and he wanted to make himself known to the world as _him_ before ascending the throne so that he wouldn't go down in history as the two hundred and thirty seventh ruler of Appolonia, but so that he would go down in history as _Antonio, a man who can bring right into the wrong, a man who can bring the ones suffering in poverty and turn them into ones blessed with prosperity, a man who can aid whoever he wished, a man who could make mistakes and acknowledge it, a man who can **help.**_

Help.

The word rang soundlessly in his ears, the chime of the bell of remembrance jingled slightly and his thoughts paused. Then it struck him, and he began his strides, that time, it was rid of anger, and fueled with passion and the fastness was fueled by the need and want to do it.

He would help the world, but it'd require baby steps.

Help his country first,

help his friends first,

Help his _Ro_ first.


End file.
